


A Healing Touch

by relic_amaranth



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 08:33:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14132226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relic_amaranth/pseuds/relic_amaranth
Summary: Gabriel doesn’t need a nurse and, in fact, makes an excellent one. You’re just too stubborn to appreciate it.





	A Healing Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by “Without warning, a crash ripped through the air, and he opened his eyes.” courtesy of @gabriel-monthly-challenge on Tumblr.
> 
> A/N: This is an alternate scenario set sometime after the episode “Meta-Fiction.” I…got nothing else, I think. It’s fluff, it’s Gabriel, it’s a thing.

 

 

Gabriel is tired. He’s tired fairly often these days, if he’s being honest. Ever since Cas ripped him out of Metatron’s little game, Gabriel has had to restore his grace, which is annoying and time consuming, but necessary if he ever wants to feel whole again, and it’s not hard. He collects the energy in a few different but tried-and-true ways– sitting in nature, walking among humans, simply taking in the kinetic energy of the world around him– essentially taking in the grace inherent in his Father’s creations. However basics are the best, and eating and sleeping continue to be a steady supply when he can’t get out. And so, when he gets tired, he rests, if only because it’s one step closer to making Dean regret every time he has tried to swaddle Gabriel while he’s sleeping. Just because it’s funny doesn’t mean the hunter can’t expect some payback.

Gabriel is closing his eyes, relaxed in the big overstuffed chair he summoned to spruce up the dump the Winchesters have chosen to squat in, and he’s on his way to dreamland when, without warning, a crash rips through the air, and he opens his eyes.

He’s not alarmed so much as annoyed. Angel, demon, human, lesser god, or monster, if they’re here to kill him they are _pitifully_ unprepared for the task. Gabriel sits up and can’t help the little flare of glee he feels at teaching a proper lesson– more of his powers are coming easier every day so he can afford to have a little fun.

However when he snaps into the kitchen he’s a little disappointed to see you fumbling with a pile of books on the floor. Just a little, though. He shifts gears, trading his predatory expression for something that’s, hopefully, a little bit more suave. It’s not often he gets time with you solo. He kneels in front of you as you scramble to put the books in a stack. “So how did–”

You jump back and knock the books back all over the floor, startling him into silence. Now he can see the bruise on your cheek, the dried blood on the side of your face and– is that a stick in your hair? You exhale heavily, like absolutely nothing is wrong, and go back to what you were doing. “Don’t sneak up on me like that, Gabriel.” You mutter under your breath about a heart attack but Gabriel grabs your chin and gently tilts up, studying you.

“What happened? Where is everyone else?” he asks.

You blink. “Oh.” And again. “Oh!” You grip his arm with much less force than usual. “Don’t worry; they’re okay. We cornered the wendigo but it smacked me into a tree and ran off. Sam and Cas followed the trail, and since I was pretty much useless Dean helped me to my car, and then went back to help them.”

“He made you drive back here on your own with a _head injury_?” Oh, Dean does not know the _meaning_ of TV Hell. But he will. When he’s dropped into a bombed-out shell of Seattle Mercy Hospital and forced to watch Dr. Sexy burn his cowboy boots and swear an oath of celibacy before going to join the priesthood while Dr. Piccolo spirals into a painfully OOC party girl–

“Oh, uh, he didn’t know, I think,” you say and touch your head, wincing. You put your hand down and smile sheepishly. “It was mostly my leg that hurt so I didn’t either. Not until I got in the car near the hiking trail, exited on the street just on the side of the house, and realized I have no memory of how I got from there to here.”

Gabriel feels helpless in the face of your earnest, sort of adorable embarrassment. So he rolls his eyes, mutters, “Dumbass hunters,” and goes to touch your forehead.

Only to have his hand smacked away for his trouble. “ _Hey_ ,” you say and waggle a finger at him. “None of that.”

Gabriel lifts an eyebrow. “Why? You not the kind of girl who wants to have a coherent thought?”

You are giving him your best unimpressed stare. If only you knew that that did to him, to know there’s at least one person in existence who never flinches from him. Well, it’s probably better (for him) that you don’t know. “A concussion is not going to kill me, and you need to heal up.”

Anybody else saying that would have him acquiescing and leaving them to suffer in lonely misery. He’s had enough condescending remarks from Dean and babying comments from Sam and Cas to fill his very long life, thanks. But when it comes to you, it just feels matter of fact.

So Gabriel being, well, himself, he tries again. “And healing a concussion won't suck me dry. C’mon, don’t you want to feel better?”

You grab his wrist and yank down. “I want _you_ to feel better.”

He actually stops. “What?”

“I want…” You speak slowly, like he doesn’t get it. Maybe, he thinks, he doesn’t. “…You. To be. Better. Every day you get more grace back you’re happier. I want you to feel better.”

The fact that he’s happier when he gets to spend time with you seems to have escaped your notice. But that’s good. It’s too much to bring up and he doesn’t want to scare you away, so he keeps it to himself. However Gabriel is being given a golden opportunity right now and he would not have lived the full and fabulous life he’s had up to now if he made a habit of passing _those_ up.

So he swipes you up into his arms, mindful of the leg that seems to be hurting you, but also outright grinning at your squeak of indignation. You punch his shoulder. “Gabriel!”

“Well if I can’t heal you then I need to monitor you, right? Concussions still aren’t anything to joke about,” he says and carries you back to the living room. He sits down in the armchair and, wouldn’t you know it, it’s not big enough that you can sit fully on the cushion next to him. He crosses your legs over his lap and pulls you in close, snapping a blanket to cover the both of you.

“I have a sleeping bag,” you say.

“Yeah, because what your head and back need after being slapped by a wendigo is a hard wooden floor.” Gabriel snorts. He has to get you away from the terrible influence of the Winchesters before it’s too late. “This is much better.”

You’re silent for a moment and Gabriel checks to see if you’ve passed out, but he finds you smiling at him. It takes him aback. “It is,” you say and shut your eyes. “Thanks, Gabriel. You’re really sweet.”

“I can say that’s a candy joke I haven’t heard before,” Gabriel says.

“No. I mean really,” you insist softly. His opens his mouth but nothing comes. “You’re really good to me, to all of us, even though you try to play it down, and I’m…I’m just really glad to have you back.”

Gabriel doesn’t know what to say. “Go to sleep,” is what comes out of him and you murmur a bit on your way to dreamland. When he feels you begin to breathe deeply, he doesn’t bother hiding the grin bursting at his face. Well, well. Things are looking better than he had thought.

He flattens his hand on your back and lets a controlled portion of his grace flow through you, easing your pain and eliminating the injuries to your leg, back, and head. You’re going to be mad about it in the morning, but after that Gabriel is going to ask you about the nice things you said, and he’s eager to see where that goes.

Also, he can’t wait to see the look on your face when, after you ask him why you feel so much better, he replies with, “It’s a miracle!”

It is _so_ going to be worth the banishing sigil.


End file.
